


Three Strikes

by ThePrincessOfPirates



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: After care, Gen, Spanking, Wesley is awful and gets himself in trouble a lot, Wesley/William is really only mentioned not blatant, creep-shots, data wears skant, everyone hates wesley, military style punishment, not kinky spanking like real punishment spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-10
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-10-17 03:03:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10585098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePrincessOfPirates/pseuds/ThePrincessOfPirates
Summary: Wesley has no self-restraint just like any other teenager, but he gets himself caught up in something much worse than pulling pigtails and school-yard fights.  In other words, Wesley has no manners and doesn't understand appropriate usage of PADDs with cameras.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: This might read like abuse even though I tried my best to avoid it. I'm not great at defining the line between normal punishment and abuse for personal reasons.

“Where's Lieutenant Commander Data?” Picard's eyes searched the bridge for the operations officer. It was still early in the morning and some of the crew members were still nursing their morning coffee. There was a ship within range of them, but Data was the only one who could read the schematics spitting out of the console.

“He lost a bet, sir,” La Forge replied.

“You're making bets on work time!” The captain moved like he was ready to get out of his chair, but it was an empty threat.

“Data, there you are!” Geordi looked relieved to have a distraction from the possible lecture on professional behavior.

“I am sorry, captain, I caused myself a little inconvenience this morning.” He stepped next to his seat, turning towards the captain. “It won't happen again.”

He was in skant. It wasn't against the rules, Picard reminded himself, for any officer to wear any uniform they wanted. That being said, Data had never worn the skant uniform before and seeing him in it was awkward and off putting. Even Worf had worn the dress a few times but Data was a creature of habit to a fault.

“Yes, thank you Mr Data. Would you mind telling us about the ship on the horizon?” Picard thought it best to just ignore the whole ordeal and wait for the Lieutenant Commander to change on his own time.

“Well it is no Klingon bird of prey, I can tell you that much!” Data leaned over the panel, opting not to sit. “A joke captain, if you will allow me one. To the matter at hand, it's a piece of space junk, honestly. From my readings, it's an escape pod from a ConFederation type ship, probably from an old crash or a misfire from a ship.”

“ConFederation?” Riker questioned.

“A humanoid species similar to yours with a federation similar to yours. They're a few decades behind on technology and a few centuries behind on fashion from your perspective but they're small, peaceful, and harmless. This isn't even their range, I assume it's a drift away.” Data slid into his seat finally.

“Leave it for the junkers?” Riker suggested. This place was crawling with them.

“Seems fair.” Picard felt much more relaxed with the whole bridge crew present.

The day went on without much incidence except what little commotion Data's change of wardrobe caused.

“This is rather comfortable, I see why it has it's appeals.” Data mentioned offhandedly. “Though I have also noticed that it is certainly more exposing than it's alternate form.”

“That's why some of the girls don't wear it, the skirt's a little on the short side.” Geordi was elbow deep in wires, looking for a single frayed end.

“Yes, I have had an issue or two keeping it descent when I am bending but I see it as a minimal loss.” Data read through the schematics, looking for the electrical error. “The wire should be on the right side closest to you.”

“So thinking you might make a habit of this?” Geordi shifted his search and jerked away quickly with a hiss. “Yeah there's the missed connection.”

“Wire cap?” Data offered the piece of plasticine repair material. “To answer your earlier question, yes I do think I might.”

“Hey Data,” Wesley tugged on his uniform. It was later in the day, around five o'clock. “Can I get your help for something?”

“Of course, Mr Crusher, I am happy to assist any way I can.” Data stopped walking and turned to face the boy.

“I was helping Ensign Myers and I dropped my PADD down a maintenance shaft. I'd get it myself but I just can't reach that far. Can you get it for me?” Wesley led Data to the maintenance shaft in question. Just a standard, body sized cavity built into the wall, just high enough from the ground to be crawled into.

“Are you sure it was this one?” Data shifted down onto all fours and peered into the space, small lights illuminating the pathway one could take deeper into the ships inner workings.

“I'm certain of it.” Wesley sat down on the floor next to the android.

“Alright, I will get it for you.” Data slid into the compartment up to his torso, waist and legs still outside the overheated capsule of air.

“Seems odd that you would drop something down a horizontal shaft...” Data thought aloud.

“Well, I tripped and it flew out of my hands.” Wesley admitted.

“Improbable but not impossible I will admit that adolescents of your age are often more prone to vertigo and dis-coordination.” Data mentioned.

“Yeah, my mom's always worried that I've got that vertigo thing.” Wesley chuckled.

“Her concern for your safety is very natural. Are you sure it was this maintenance shaft? I'm not seeing anything.” Data's voice was a little muffled as he pushed himself a little further into the tunnel of indicator lights.

“I'm pretty sure...” Wesley sounded like he was double checking himself.

“Maybe one of the other engineers found it and turned it in.” Data pulled himself back out and stood back up in one fluid motion only to see Wesley on the floor with the once missing PADD.

“Oh you found it!” Data snatched it out of his hands, an act that Wesley fought to no avail. “Oh. Wesley,” he tucked the device behind his back. “Would you mind accompanying me for a visit to Commander Riker?” It didn't sound like a request.

“What if I say no?” Wesley backed up a little bit, now feeling too close for comfort to the android.

“Then I will have to forcefully carry you there and it will be quite a scene.” Data grabbed Wesley's elbow and pulled him to his feet. “Are you prepared to keep this quiet?”

“Really?!” Riker exclaimed looking at the PADD Data had handed to him just moments after ushering him into a meeting room. “Wesley, I really expected more from you... More than... This at least! These sort of photos of a higher ranking officer is against so many rules! You could be court martialed for sexual harassment, Wesley, this is serious.”

“I-i-i didn't...” Wesley stuttered.

“Don't try to give me an excuse!” Riker paced the room like a caged beast. “You might be a hormonal teenager but you've got self-restraint. Don't tell me you didn't think.”

“I'm sorry.” Wesley's face was bright red and he looked on the verge of tears.

“I don't care if you're sorry...” Riker's voice bit like a hound. “I'm going to be honest with you kid, I like you. Data knows that, that's why he didn't report you straight to the captain and brought you to me instead. As your mentor and a commanding officer, I can choose not to report you for this and handle it myself. That's what I plan to do. Don't think that means I'll go easy on you though, I'm going to fix this behavior whatever it takes.”

“Please don't tell my mother...” Wesley pleaded.

“Wesley, you know I can't do that. Sure, I can water down the story, tell her that it's private and leave out the details but I can't just not tell her.” Riker sat down in the chair next to Wesley's. “Wesley, I want you to know how very very disappointed I am in you.”

“I'm sorry...” He mumbled, hugging his arms to himself. “I'm so sorry.”

“I'm glad you've recognized the issue.” Riker spun the display terminal in the center of the table towards the boy. “You're going to stay in here alone for a while and watch some stuff on proper behavior in a work environment, alright. This computer can tell when you're not watching so don't try to wander around, sit and learn.”

Riker left the room in silence, letting the door shut and lock behind him.

Doctor Crusher was furious, to say the least. Even with minimal details that basically said “it's an interpersonal issue that we're handling quietly and we think your interference might throw off the delicate balance of the situation,” she was still ready to take Wesley's punishment into her own hands “like a good mother should.”

“So are you saying I can't punish him for it? Would that count as interference?” Beverly rubbed her temples. Medicine had only advanced so far, tension headaches couldn't always be prevented.

“No, I'd actually encourage you ground him but I think you should avoid pressing him for details on what happened. I'd rather he and I work together on our own to find the root of the issue that started this rather than involving a bunch of people and making a big mess of it.” Riker did his best to comfort her with a hand on her back.

“He's not in the brig is he?” Beverly paled. Being sent to the brig was a mark on one's record that couldn't be erased.

“No! Goodness no, Beverly, this is gonna be fine!” He gave her a gentle pat. “Don't worry so much, there'll be no trace this ever even happened by the end of the week, I promise.”

There was.

“Wesley, I...” Riker groaned and let his head hit the table in front of him. Data had brought in another PADD. “I hoped and I prayed that this was a one time thing and you just had to go out and prove me massively wrong didn't you? Excuse my language but really, same shit twice in one week, what the hell's gotten into you?!”

“Teenage rebellion...” Wesley couldn't tell if the question was rhetorical or not.

“No, Wesley, teenage rebellion is reading The Communist Manifesto or listening to loud music, this is just a lack of basic understanding of the feelings of those around you and complete disregard for the sense that god gave geese and we all assumed he gave you too!” Riker stopped to take in a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. “Were those just crocodile tears I saw on Monday? Do you really not understand the gravity of this situation?”

“I... I didn't think I'd get caught.” Wesley's jaw tensed and he kept his eyes at his shoes.

“That doesn't change the morality of it. Whether you get caught or not, you're still invading another crew member's privacy. Does Data deserve this sort of treatment from you? This disregard for his personal privacy and dignity?” Riker tensed, balling his hands into tight, white knuckled fists. “I'm disgusted by your actions Wesley.”

“I know, sir...” Wesley looked even more embarrassed than last time.

“Apparently you don't because you did it again. I thought I made it very clear, this behavior is unacceptable in any environment, work or otherwise.” Riker sighed and felt the bones in his back settle and shift, the pressure of the day present in each tense muscle. “How could I make this any clearer than I already have? I am at a loss, honestly, I really thought last time was the charm... What did I not do?”

Wesley remained silent.

“Should I tell your mother in graphic detail the events? You do know that I still have all of those pictures.” Riker turned Wesley's chair so they were face to face but the boy's eyes still alluded him.

“Please, don't do that she'll-” Wesley broke his silence.

“Why the hell should I care what you want or not? She's your mother, which means she can take some liberties with your rearing that I can't, as a starfleet officer. Maybe that's what you need, a little physical persuasion. In fact, I think telling Doctor Crusher is the best course of action given the scenario.” Riker grabbed one of Wesley's wrists and held it with a vice like grip. “Is that what I have to do to get your attention?”

“No, please, I'll stop!” Wesley pleaded.

“You said that last time.” Riker hissed.

“I mean it this time, I really do. I swear!” Wesley pulled against the painful grip on his wrist. “It won't happen again!”

“Last chance Mr Crusher. If I or anyone else gets even the faintest idea you haven't stopped, you will go through hell before I've even handed you off to the captain for a court martial.” Riker released the boy's arm. “And don't think this is the end of this! It's late... Go home, tell your mother you're in trouble again and go to bed. I expect you back in here tomorrow at seven o'clock for more behavioral training, you got that?” Riker stepped back, giving Wesley enough room to stand up.

“Yes, s-sir...” Wesley shook a little as he rose.

“Good, you're excused.”

And so things were quiet. It was two weeks after Wesley's second strike and still nothing had happened. Most would have assumed Wesley had learned his lesson, had quit his fiendish ways, but Riker kept an eye out. He wouldn't feel safe unless a month passed without incident. That mildly paranoid eye for detail, might have been overkill, but it proved useful, unfortunately.

It was just a foot. A shiny black shoe sticking out from under the table which, upon closer inspection, attached to a gray socked ankle and in Riker twisted his head just a little, he saw the bottom cuff of a pair of slacks.

On the other side of the table, Geordi and Data were running some diagnostics on the computer for this floor.

'Data' Riker thought, already preparing himself for what he might see under that table.

He snatched the ankle without signaling and whoever was under the table jerked away, but didn't make enough noise to catch the attention of the other two crew members around or the scattered engineering staff.

Riker pulled, dragging the boy closer to him and pinned him down with his knees in an instant. He clasped one hand over Wesley's mouth. Now was not the time to make a scene.

“I thought you were better than this...” Riker spoke just below the hum of the servos and engine, grabbing the PADD from Wesley's hand. “Come on, you're seeing the captain.”

“Please, Riker, let's be reasonable about this... The captain?” Wesley fought against Riker pulling him up to his feet.

“Yes, that's where protocol tells me I'm supposed to take you next. Wesley, co-operate or I'll call security.” Riker gave the boys arm a somewhat rough pull and brought him upright.

Wesley didn't pull as hard but he still didn't follow.

“I cuff you and carry you if I have to, make this easier for yourself, kid.” Riker grabbed the back of Wesley's sweater as a threat. “Walk.”

The walk to the turbo lift was dead silent, the obvious tension between the two leading anyone they encountered to give them a wide clearing.

“What's the captain going to do to me?” Wesley asked, nothing but the hum of the lift filling the air.

“Depends... If he's feeling gracious, you might make it out of this without too much pain. On the other hand, this might ruin you.” Riker pushed him out the turbo lift doors first.

“Wesley, my boy, what are you doing here? I thought you had school today.” Picard smiled and stood from his chair.

“Captain, I need to speak with you privately.” Riker answered, guiding Wesley towards the briefing room.

“What is this all about?” Picard sat in his chair somewhat tensely.

“Wonder boy here thought it would be fun to use his PADD to take inappropriate pictures of some fellow crew members.” Riker slid the device in question in front of his captain.

“Wesley, what on earth possessed you to do such a thing?” Picard only needed one glance at the still open photos to have seen enough.

“I'll mention, for the record, this is his third strike though I have reason to believe this is only the third time we've caught him.” Riker crossed his arms over his chest. “I tried to handle this on my own, with standard behavioral retraining, but it didn't work. I should have brought him into you much sooner.”

“No, you're his mentor, it's within your limits to try to handle this sort of thing on your own.” Picard replied. “Have you told his mother?” Wesley kept quiet, feeling completely and rightfully ignored in one of the office chairs.

“None of the details. I was hoping we could work this out without involving more people than necessary.” Riker rubbed the back of his neck with one hand.

“Tell her in person immediately. No, better yet, make him tell her.” Picard slid open a panel on the table, revealing a small computer display, for references and note-taking during briefings.

“What do you recommend as punishment, sir. Now that it's under your jurisdiction, I can't do anything you don't order.” Riker pulled out a chair and settled in.

“How many photographs were taken?” Picard paused his tapping and typing.

“Somewhere around twenty to thirty, officially.” Riker supplied.

“For sexual harassment on that scale... Wesley, are you listening to me?” Picard's words snapped Wesley out of his hazy state.

“I'm listening, sir,” Wesley sat upright all of a sudden like a spring.

“Considering the repeated offense and the intensity of those offenses, I'd say one week of out of school suspension, followed by two weeks of in school suspension, all with at least a month, if not two, of academic probation. Then, you won't be allowed to go anywhere other than living quarters, school, and the mess hall for quite a while and if you are needed in engineering, you'll be accompanied by a member of our security staff.” Picard rattled off the list, scrolling through something on the display.

“And that's just what I'm recommending.” Picard began. “Commander Riker, you may add corporal punishment if you see fit and Doctor Crusher may punish you how ever she sees fit as long as it doesn't cross the Federation's set definition of child abuse which I highly doubt it will.”

“Corporal punishment?” Wesley asked timidly.

“Yes, if Commander Riker things it will benefit you in the long run, he may use physical force.” Picard crossed his hands on the table. “Riker, are you satisfied?”

“I do believe I am.” Riker nodded.

“Captain Picard, report to the bridge,” the com pinged, pulling Picard from his chair.

“Number One, see to it that all of this is implicated.” The door hissed shut behind him.

“I really don't want to tell my mom...” Wesley mumbled.

“Wesley, how old are you?” Riker rose from his seat.

“Fifteen. Why?” The boy tensed somewhat.

“Because there's a certain age where spanking works and it's sort of a small window.” Riker started hesitantly. “Too young and a child doesn't fully understand how his actions are related to the consequences. Too old and it becomes... well awkward. At that point, developmentally, non-physical routes can be taken with a child understanding fully his actions and consequences. Luckily for me, Wesley, through all of this, you've shown me that you're still immature enough to fall within that space.”

“You're not gonna-” Wesley's jaw clenched.

“I can and I will. You've proven to me that other methods can't convince you so I'm running out of options.” Riker pressed the lock button on the door, the mechanics clicking closed. He stalked slowly towards Wesley who's still at the other end of the room. The boy looked like a caged animal, eyes darting around, set in a fighting stance like he has any sort of chance to not be completely overpowered by his superior officer. “Make this easy on yourself, Wesley.”

Wesley bolted for the door, going the other way around the table to avoid Riker but it's no use. Will lurches after him and grabs Wesley by his sweater collar inches from his goal.

“No you don't!” Riker tried to wrangle the squirming mess of fear, anger, and sweater fabric but Wesley fought back with all his might, trying to throw himself out of Will's arms.

“I'll scream!” Wesley warns, pushing at the first officer's arms.

“Don't act stupid, you know how thick that door is, screaming won't do you any good.” Riker pulls Wesley in even tighter.

When a Boa Constrictor grabs it's victim, it waits until whatever it has tied up is good and done fighting before it acts any further. William Riker was not a snake, he knew that he could get what he wanted with one sudden show of dominance rather than waiting for Wesley to struggle himself tired.

That's why he slammed the small, writhing frame in his arms down on the meeting table with a sharp smack.

“Stop struggling.” He didn't raise his voice, he knew that cold anger was a stronger force than it's fiery, white-hot counterpart when it came to intimidation. “Learn from this, and it'll never happen again, do you understand? I'm not doing this to hurt you or just to be mean, this is so you get it into your head just how bad of an idea all of this was.”

“But I do understand, I really do.” Wesley pleaded as Riker yanked him off the table and flat onto his lap.

“You said that the last two times, I don't trust you.” Riker grabbed the back belt loop of Wesley's pants to hold his hips in place.

The first few smacks weren't all that hard but they're jarring and it feels like every bone in Wesley's body vibrates along with them.

“I'm sorry!” Wesley tried to pull away but it's just no use, Riker has a death grip on him.

“Don't lie to me, Wesley.” The next strikes are rougher and leave a lasting sting the settles into dull pain. Beverly was not the kind of parent to resort to spanking and it's been years since Wesley even so much as got a tight grip on his arm, the kind that leaves the little crescent shaped fingernail marks like the other person's anger punching through your skin.

“The less you squirm, the quicker this get's over with.” Riker feels like he's more wrestling than punishing at this point with how much fighting he has to do to keep Wesley down. “I'm trying to make this easy for you, Wesley, just hold still.”

Wesley doesn't make much noise except for winces and a few quiet sobs, still jerking away at each strike but holding still otherwise.

This isn't fun for Will. It's satisfying to know that he's probably finally gotten through to the kid, but this is more something he has to do than wants to do, an odd obligation.

“Just a little more, I'm sorry.” Riker's settled down more now, as if he and Wesley's emotions had decrescendo-ed in tandem.

Wesley hiccuped a little, trying not to cry with the final three blows.

“All done, alright, we're done.” He pulled Wesley up so he's sitting in Will's lap. “It's over, okay.”

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I get it now, I won't do it again.” Wesley curled up tightly and pressed his face into Riker's chest.

“I'm sorry that I had to do this.” Will rubbed the crying boy's back. “You can cry as long as you need, I'll get you a bottle of water and you can head back home for the day.” 

Riker slowly stood up, awkwardly having to put Wesley down on the chair, an action which elicited a sharp hiss of pain.

“I still don't want to tell my mom...” Wesley caught the water bottle Will threw at him and cracked it open. “I'm gonna be grounded forever.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading this far. This was self-indulgent stress relief for me, writing Wesley as an awful, uncontrollable, perverted mess of a teenager like most kids his age. I'm sorry.


End file.
